


Protégé-Mentor Guidelines

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M, Snark, Talking During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Number four on the list was screwing the protégé.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protégé-Mentor Guidelines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Raisintorte

"Hey. Hey! Isn't this against the rules or something? I thought I was your protégé? Doesn't seeing my panties kind of mess that up?"

"Lemon, screwing the protégé is right up there on the list of protégé-mentor guidelines. See here? Number four."

He waved a piece of paper under her nose which could have been anything but was most likely, given Jack, the aforementioned guidelines, which he had written and published, and kept in his pocket for just such an occasion. God, how she hated him. Which didn't really explain what she was doing here in his office, letting him grope her through her shirt. She dimly remembered Jenna being the reason she was up here in the first place, and Tray was undoubtedly the _original_ problem, but it seemed a little unfair to blame them for all of this. Wouldn't stop her doing it later, of course.

She asked, "What are the top three?"

"Your priorities are, as ever, confused. Thankfully, I'm here to keep you straight. Climb onto the desk."

"Excuse me?"

"I'd lift you up there but, quite frankly, I have back problems."

" _Excuse me_?"

"You're right, that was a terrible lie - I'm in perfect health. I was just concerned you might be unsettled by me treating you as the woman in our relationship." He set his hands on her waist and lifted her firmly onto the edge of his desk.

"And now?"

"Do keep up, Lemon." 

It sucked to admit it, but he was kind of right. She was Liz Lemon, dammnit! She was no wilting flower, just sitting back while he... did whatever he was doing. "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"You wanna, maybe..." She gestured vaguely down at herself, at all the parts of her he wasn't unclothing, because he was running his hands over the strap of her bra.

"This thing is a menace," he growled. "It's like some kind of medieval torture device. For me, I mean. It's clearly designed with such fiendish complexity that no man could ever..."

"It opens at the front."

" _Really_?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent." One swift movement and both shirt and bra were hanging open. Jack smirked, pleased with himself. In retaliation, she went for his fly. 

"Boxer briefs?"

"All the comfort of boxers, with all the display benefits of briefs." And that, for Jack, was that. 

She slipped her hand inside and for once he stopped talking. Stopped correcting her, bar the occasional directional and speed instruction. Okay, so he was still correcting her, but it was tricky to care, what with his hands roaming over her breasts, and the clearly expert way he lowered his mouth to tongue at her nipple. 

His right hand slid down to her waist. "You know," he said, "this would be a lot easier if you would wear a skirt occasionally."

"Yeah, Jack, I'm going to start dressing like Cerie just to give you easier access."

"Well. I thought you modern feminists had rejected the idea that wearing a skirt made you a slut?"

"I didn't say she was a slut! ... She's a tease, that's very different. She's wearing low cut tops and making the guys crazy, she's not sleeping with them."

"You'd be happier if she was?"

"No. Weren't you doing something not this?"

"So were you," he countered. 

"You stopped first."

"That was playful banter, you're the one who brought your staff into it."

"You're my boss, and you're about to fuck me on your desk. It's hard not to think about work."

"That, Lemon, is exactly your problem."

"Jack."

"Yes."

"Shut up."

He was going to mock her for this later - trying to top from a position of disadvantage, braced unsurely against the table. But when she slid down onto him it was nothing but relief, she had been ready for so long. He was ready too, or had been ready for her. He caught her when she moved, and held onto her so they could stay upright. It was rough, and blissful, and _damn_ but she had known he would be good at this. The bad guys always were. For a while, longer than it seemed but not long enough, he didn't speak and she didn't think about the show. When they came down, life came crashing back, as it always did.

"You're not really my normal type," Liz said.

"I know," he replied, and his voice would have been almost tender if he wasn't saying, "I'm rich and successful, and the men you traditionally fall for are neither of those things."

She sighed. "True. But they compensate for it by not talking too much after this part."

"And you're smarter than they are."

"Yeah."

"Lemon, you really should..."

"Jack. Just, don't, okay?"

"Liz."

"We have other problems. For one thing, we just had sex in your office."

"And?"

"We just had _sex_. In your _office_. Your assistant, who I believe may actually be psychic, has been outside the whole time. I left _my_ office three quarters of an hour ago, and everyone knows where I went. Also, I still haven't got you to agree not to let Tracy dress up as Jenna for the next promo."

"It might be funny."

"It won't be funny, it's going to lead to people asking why we can't do it the other way around, and then we'll end up in a discussion about blackface which _trust me_ , you don't want to be having. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Really?"

"You seemed fairly determined."

"That doesn't generally matter."

"Well, I just had sex. I'm in a good mood."

"Really?" She couldn't help but feel a little flattered. It took a lot to get Jack Donaghy in a good mood. Well, it didn't, but she wasn't normally the one who managed it. It was nice, in a weird this-may-have-been-the-dumbest-thing-I-ever-did kind of way. She smiled at him.

He smiled back, but as always, the sincerity was hard to determine. Jack clapped his hands together. "All right, so we have two problems. Three if you count Tracy, which I don't. One: Jonathan probably knows. This isn't actually a problem at all, because he's so slavishly devoted he won't do anything with the information. Two: your staff may figure out what we just did. This problem can be solved with reference to problem one."

Liz followed him out of the office. 

Jack leant over Jonathan's desk, and looked at him seriously. "Jonathan. I'd like you to make sure everyone who works on TGS knows that Ms Lemon and I just had a long, loud fight, which ended in my inevitable victory. However, as I am magnanimous, I gave her what she wanted anyway. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." Jack turned around to look at her. "Elevator?"

They stood in somewhat awkward silence on the way down to her floor, while Liz cursed the man (it was definitely a man) who had written the plinky 'awkward-silence' elevator music. When she risked a glance over at Jack, he was looking at her like... like he'd seen her boobs. She was going to kill Jenna for making her take the stupid problem up here. Bad things always happened in Jack's office. Jack smiled at her again, more genuine this time, and decidedly ill at ease. Liz smirked. On the other hand, she'd seen him now too. 


End file.
